


In These Desperate Hours, I Will Hold You Tight

by Sammy_is_obsessed



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Junoverse | Juno Steel Universe, Memory Loss/Confusion, Nureyev is strugglingTM, Nurturing Peter Nureyev, Other, Peter asks for help wow imagine that, Self-Esteem Issues, Sickfic, Vespa Ilkay - Freeform, Vespa Ilkay being a real good doctor, Vomiting, mention of Juno's missing eye, mention of past injury, mention of throwing up but it's not to explicit, minor rita, not amnesia or anything Juno's just real sick and it reduces his brain to mush for a while, overprotective Peter Nureyev, so basically just how he is normally lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28474851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammy_is_obsessed/pseuds/Sammy_is_obsessed
Summary: “Vespa, he’s burning up.”“Yeah, having a fever will do that to you,” Vespa replies, rifling through a cabinet, fingers brushing over medicine before she lands on a bottle.“Juno? Juno darling?” Nureyev says softly, jostling the ex-detective just so. He mumbles something unintelligible, blood-shot eye opening for a split-second, before shutting again. “He isn’t lucid. Vespa, he…”Nureyev trails off. He can feel the emotion wavering with each word, the way he sounds so desperate. For years, he’s trained himself against this behavior; to burry and hide so much as a hint of emotion. Vulnerability is just another word for weak, and Peter Nureyev is not weak.But… seeing Juno like this, feverish and trembling, not in his right mind at all, it’s as though decades of caution and staying guarded completely melt away. He can’t allow himself to behave this way, especially in front of Vespa of all people.And yet, he can’t seem to stop.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 50
Kudos: 204





	1. Chapter 1

“Vespa, he’s _burning up_.”

“Yeah, having a fever will do that to you,” Vespa replies, rifling through a cabinet, fingers brushing over medicine before she lands on a bottle.

“Juno? Juno darling?” Nureyev says softly, jostling the ex-detective just so. He mumbles something unintelligible, blood-shot eye opening for a split-second, before shutting again. “He isn’t lucid. Vespa, he…”

Nureyev trails off. He can feel the emotion wavering with each word, the way he sounds so desperate. For years, he’s trained himself against this behavior; to burry and hide so much as a hint of emotion. Vulnerability is just another word for _weak_ , and Peter Nureyev is _not_ weak.

But… seeing Juno like this, feverish and trembling, not in his right mind at all, it’s as though decades of caution and staying guarded completely melt away. He can’t allow himself to behave this way, especially in front of _Vespa_ of all people.

And yet, he can’t seem to stop.

“He’s probably going to stay that way for the next several hours, if not longer. Christ, I _told_ him about a hundred times not to go near the Umebrorn flower, but did he listen? No! Of course not! Why would I expect any different?”

“Perhaps he didn’t remember what it looked like.”

“Like hell, he didn’t. He just wasn’t paying any attention when I was explaining it to him.”

Against every ounce of better judgment, Nureyev wants to _scream_. How dare Vespa talk so poorly of Juno when he’s lying there, pale and shaking?! He wants to say horrible, nasty things that he’ll surely regret in the near future. Frankly, Nureyev wants to do a great many things, but he’s got enough sense left not to.

Because regardless of the anger he feels, Vespa is Juno’s doctor – more precisely, the only doctor on the Carte Blanche. Additionally, despite his feelings on the matter, she is his crewmate. A member of the ‘family’ Buddy is so proud to call them, and right now, Juno is unwell.

When Juno had told him he was going on a solo mission on Callisto, one of Jupiter’s largest moons, he hadn’t been worried – or at least, that’s what he’d been telling himself. Juno was a grown lady who could take care of himself, he understood this well. Of course, did. But that couldn’t stop the dread from creeping in.

It wasn’t often that any of the crew had to go on a job on their own, and as of late, Nureyev had accompanied him on almost all of them. Some might call him a slight bit over-protective… and they’d be right. But Nureyev is fairly certain he’s earned it, considering their past, and how much Juno has grown and changed. Considering that they have exchanged so many words of admiration and forgiveness, have each fallen back in trust and in love with each other. Anyway – he’s certain Juno would be fretting just as much if their roles were reversed.

Vespa must sense the unease that’s filled the small room from floor to ceiling because when she looks at Nureyev, it isn’t with total malice. There’s even a little sympathy mixed in there he dares to think.

“Listen, Ransom,” she sighs, filling an injection with the medicine she’d picked up, “I know you’re worried about Steel. I get that.”

Nureyev doesn’t meet Vespa’s eyes, still focused on gently running a hand over Juno’s sweltering forehead. He hopes that even in Juno’s disoriented state that the motion is somewhat soothing.

What is he meant to say? _Obviously,_ he’s worried about Juno. At the very least, Vespa has clarified that he isn’t going to die, but that doesn’t negate the fact that his lady is suffering so terribly.

“He’s going to be fine, alright?” She says, and Nureyev almost swears he hears a ting of sympathy in her voice. “But things are gonna be real shitty for the next couple of days.”

"Define shitty.”

She huffs out a sigh, administering the injection into Juno’s forearm – the lady’s so out of it, he doesn’t even flinch. His poor dear.

“I’m giving him something that should bring his fever down,” she explains, almost any hint of annoyance at Juno for having interacted with this plant – _“Honestly, I don’t know how he didn’t see it! The Umebrorn is bright fucking red!”_ – receding, her tone turning curt, “But it’s gonna be a bumpy ride. The spores that the plant expels only affect the person who’s exposed to it, so there’s no threat of contagion. Thank Christ for that.”

“Other than the fever, what other symptoms will Juno experience?” Nureyev asks, hoping he sounds calmer than he feels. Vespa’s expression shifts ever so slightly, but instantly, his heart drops. “Vespa. What is going to happen to him?”

“Hallucinations and lapses in memory are the most common symptoms,” she says, a dark familiar feeling to her words, “He may not know who you are, who he is. He might not understand what’s going on at all.”

Despite believing he’d kicked the habit years ago, Nureyev bites the inside of his cheek, his sharpened incisors pricking. “There isn’t anything I can do to stop that. believe me, I would if I could.” Nureyev knows she would. That’s one thing he can be certain about Vespa.

“All you can do is reassure him as best you can. This’ll pass on its own. It just takes time.”

Vespa lists the rest of the symptoms Juno might be subject to, most of which are typical of flues or the common cold. Nureyev has to fight to keep his attention on the information Vespa is giving him, his eyes continuing to land on Juno despite his best effort.

It isn’t right at all, his detective looking so helpless. Nureyev has come to know him as an incredibly strong, capable person. Juno has gone through such a great many hardships in his life, and he’s survived them, he’s conquered them like the warrior that he is. He will survive this too, but that can’t take away the pain of seeing him this way.

"You’re going to need to look after him. For the next several days, at least,” Vespa says, and Nureyev tunes back into what she’s saying. “As much as I hate to have _both_ of you out of commission, he’s going to need round the clock care.”

“Of course,” Nureyev rasps out, struggling past the lump that’s wedged itself inside of his throat, “I’ll take care of him as best I can.”

“I know you will,” she grumbles.

Despite how much Vespa distrusts and outwardly dislikes him, there is no doubt that she can tell how much he loves Juno. It’s an almost undeniable fact. Even in this moment, he’s glad that she trusts him to look after Juno in this state.

She gives him an array of other supplies that could be necessary; painkillers, more medication for mitigating his fever, and protein supplements in case he can’t keep anything else down. She helps Nureyev bring Juno to his room, an activity she’s clearly loathing. Nureyev is grateful for her assistance, likely more than she knows.

“Vespa,” Nureyev says, the doctor hovering in the doorway to leave.

“What?”

"Thank you.”

“Whatever,” she groans, “If you need help with anything, contact me. Don’t need a dead body stinking up the ship.”

Nureyev’s heart plummets.

“But I thought you said -.”

“I’m joking, _jeez_ ,” Vespa says, and Nureyev wonders if she knows the definition of what a joke is, “Steel’s not gonna die. Just take care of him, alright?”

“Will do,” Nureyev responds, still recovering from the fear Vespa had momentarily instilled. And then, he and Juno are alone.

=+=

For the first few hours under his care, Juno drifts in and out of consciousness. Rita stops by for a moment, something that both alleviates and elevates Nureyev’s anxieties.

“Mistah Steel can be _so_ stubborn when he’s under the weather,” she exclaims with a huff, leaning in the doorway, “I’ve had to lock him in his apartment before, y’ know? Just to make sure he gets some rest. Let me know if you need any help wrangling him, and ol’ Rita‘ll come running.”

Nureyev glances back into the room at Juno asleep and shaking in his bed and directs his attention back to Rita.

“Thank you, Miss Rita. But I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

He doesn’t allow her in the room, knowing seeing Juno like this will only upset her. He listens to her talk about a recent stream she’d watched for a moment before, as kindly as possible, shooing her out in place of keeping a more careful eye on his lady love.

Nureyev likes Rita. She’s an incredibly skilled hacker, the best he’s been in the company of. More importantly, though, she means a great deal to Juno. She’s kind, and funny, and radiates pure energy at almost all times. He’d been so upset when she’d slipped up and said his real name. The idea that she found out who he was, that she’d looked so in-depth into his past… well, it still isn’t a pleasant thing to know.

But she’s long since made up for it. She’s been a constant in Juno’s life for so long, Nureyev isn’t sure he could ever truly dislike her in the first place.

=+=

For a while, Nureyev sits in the chair beside Juno’s bed, leafing through a book he isn’t paying all that much attention to. Instead, his focus lies on Juno’s congested breathing, his eyes raking over the distressed expression his face has contorted to, even in slumber. Nureyev finds himself on edge, but for the most part, things are calm.

Until they aren’t.

He’s in the on-suite bathroom when he hears the scream. It’s loud, blood-curdling, and filled with so much terror. Nureyev drops the pain-meds he’d been holding, the bottle clattering against the tile floor. He rushes into the room, eyes quickly scanning for danger. Instead, he finds Juno standing before a mirror, his eyepatch discarded on the floor. 

“Juno! Love, what’s the –,” Nureyev begins to ask before he’s interrupted.

“My – my _eye_!” Juno cries out, hand pressed over the large scar where a second eye had once resided, “It’s _gone_! Nureyev I – I can’t see!”

It’s sad, the solace Nureyev takes in the fact that Juno remembers his name. That relief is minuscule in the scope of the horrors his love is currently relieving.

“It’s _okay_ , Juno,” he says, trying to make his voice sound as soothing as possible, “It’s alright.”

“ _No, it isn’t_! My – my eye. It’s not here! It’s – it isn’t here,” Juno’s voice warbles, tears trickling down his left cheek. The ex-detective sways on unsteady feet. Nureyev catches him swiftly as he all but collapses, placing him on the bed and sitting beside him.

“N-Nureyev. It… it isn’t here. My eye it’s g-gone.”

Nureyev takes the lady in his lap, his hand rubbing circles into the small of Juno’s back.

“You lost it in an accident. A very unfortunate accident,” Nureyev explains, remaining as vague as he possibly can, “There isn’t anything that could’ve been done. I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so very sorry.”

Nureyev holds him as he cries, massaging his back and pressing kisses to the crown of his head. Juno trembles terribly, wailing in a way Peter has never had the misfortune of hearing. It’s a hollow, broken sound. In the time that they’ve known each other, Nureyev doesn’t think he’s ever heard his love sound so defeated. That revelation says far more than he’s willing to face at the moment.

“When?” Juno asks after a long stretch of silence, his voice a hoarse whisper, head still resting on Nureyev’s lap, his eye-patch back on.

“When, what, my dear?”

“When did I… lose it? I don’t… I don’t remember. Nureyev, I don’t remember.”

Confusion and a boggled memory swirl in Juno’s mind. He’s fighting so valiantly against it, trying to find his way through the fog.

“A while ago,” Nureyev responds, kissing Juno’s forehead as if that will take the pain away, “A little over a year ago.”

He fails to mention the horrors of a Martian tomb and the mayhem of an evil cybernetic eye. Those memories will return to Juno in due time, and for now, there’s only so much he can process. Nureyev can’t bring any more burden to Juno’s shoulders.

“A year,” Juno says weakly, his voice awed and horrified, “Why don’t I remember? I don’t… nothing makes any sense.”

“You’re ill,” Nureyev says, “And right now, that’s affecting your memory. But you’re going to be right as rain very soon. I promise you that.”

“’ M sick?” Juno asks, words slurring together so that they’re hardly coherent.

“I’m afraid so, dear.”

Juno hums, as though he’s thinking it over.

“Makes sense. My body feels like it’s made of… of lead, or somethin’.” A pause. “…is it? Made of lead?” Nureyev sighs.

“No, love. You aren’t made of lead. You just need to rest. You’re very tired.”

“Mm,” Juno mutters in what Nureyev can only interpret as agreement, “My eyelids, er, _eyelid_ feel all – all heavy.”

“Rest, my love. I’ll be here; there’s nothing to fret about.”

“You’re taking care of me?” Juno asks, sounding unsure. Nureyev can’t tell what degree Juno is aware at the moment.

“Of course I am, Juno. I love you. More than anything.”

Juno lets out a sigh that sounds almost content, all things considered.

“Mm, that’s _nice_. I… I like how you say that. _Ju_ -no. that’s… real nice.”

Nureyev feels his lip upturn in a small smile as Juno drifts off again. It isn’t the first time Juno has commented on the way that the thief says his name, but in this fragile, fractured moment, it certainly feels like it.

=+=


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out this is gonna be a three-chapter thing, as the plot became a bit more expansive than I'd previously expected. Be aware, there's quite a bit more angst in the chapter.

It’s a miracle that Nureyev managed to catch a wink or two when Juno is napping, only to be woken by the sound of retching.

Nureyev rubs his back as he pukes until there’s nothing but bile – and then some more after Juno manages to get some food down which is quickly expelled. Tears return to Juno’s eye as he shakes, vomiting the crackers he’d just choked down minutes before.

Eventually, when it seems there’s an adjourn in Juno’s heaving, Nureyev holds him in his lap once more. Juno’s skin is still so pale, covered in a sheen of sweat.

“’ Reyeve,” Juno mumbles, his voice sounding terribly sore.

“Yes, my love?”

“I don’t feel good.”

Nureyev’s heart twinges with sympathy. It’s unthinkable, the state this illness has reduced Juno to. He’s so weak, so feeble and confused. Nureyev knows that so few things in life are fair, but this _really_ isn’t fair.

How dare the universe reduce his Goddess to this condition?

“I know, Juno. I’m sorry.”

“I’m all gross,” Juno moans into Nureyev’s lap. The thief pets his hair, nimble fingers twisting into tight, beautiful curls.

“That’s okay, darling. You’re sick. It’d be stranger if you _weren’t_ gross at the moment.”

“N-Nurenv’. No. That isn’t right…” Juno tries again before sighing, defeated, “Babe?”

“Yes?”

“Where are we? Are we… in my apartment?”

Nureyev feels foolish for not realizing sooner that Juno doesn’t currently know his location. He supposes he’d assumed, since Juno recalled his name, that most other vital information remained in his grasp. How long has Juno been wondering where he was?

“No, my dear. We’re on the Carte Blanche. In your room.”

Juno hums in the way one does when they haven’t a clue what a person is referring to but feel it rude not to respond.

"Juno? Do you know where that is?”

“…no.” A sigh rolls past his lips, giving his love’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.

“That’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that. We’re on a space-ship.”

Juno perks up at this. Not entirely alarmed, but certainly confused. Is he frightened? Nureyev can’t tell. He prays he isn’t. 

“A spaceship? We aren’t on mars?”

“We aren’t. You haven’t been on mars for quite a long time. We’re… well, we’re seeing the stars together, I suppose,” Nureyev says, mind drifting to a time not so distant, to an alias he’s long since swapped-out.

“Seeing the stars,” Juno says, the words coming out slow and careful, “That’s… that’s nice, right?”

“It is love. Very much so.”

They sit there for a while, Nureyev going back and forth between rubbing circles into Juno’s back and playing with his hair. Then, Juno speaks.

“What’re we doing on a space-ship?”

“I just told you-.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head lightly against the thief, “I mean, I _know_ what you said but… what’re we doing? I feel like… it’s got somethin’ to do with, with disguises, or… I dunno. Is that – is it right?”

“Oh, Juno,” Nureyev croons, “My poor dear.” Juno sighs.

“That wasn’t right, huh?”

“Sort of. Do you remember when we were Duke and Dalilah Rose?” Juno goes quiet, his face twisted in concentration, as though it’s taking all of his brainpower to try and find the memory. Perhaps, it is. 

“Kinda…”

“Very good. Well, it’s like that. We’ve had some very fun aliases,” Nureyev says, dipping into a chuckle, “We’ve posed as a married couple a few times now.”

“I pretended to be your wife?” Juno asks, a strange fondness seeping into his voice.

“Indeed.” Juno’s lips upturn in a small smile, one that’s still wrought with fatigue, but manages to capture some small sense of ease.

“I like that. It sounds… awfully nice. Being your wife.”

The statement stirs something deeply sentimental in his chest, a lightness overtaking him. It’s no secret that Nureyev adores playing Juno’s husband. He’s confident in his ability to master almost any disguise, but… being married to Juno Steel is a role he seems to have been born to play.

“I like it too,” he rasps out, a tenderness to his voice he isn’t sure if Juno will remember or not when he comes out of this illness, “More than you know, my dear.”

They sit there, on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night, for quite a while. Nureyev explains what he feels is necessary to Juno: their place in the crime family they’ve joined, the fact that Rita is onboard, and that they're safe. That Juno will be perfectly fine, and that they're doing good. 

When it seems like Juno no longer needs to stay so close to the toilet, Nureyev helps him back to bed, Juno’s words fresh in his mind.

_“I like that. It sounds awfully nice being your wife.”_

=+=

Nureyev had hopped the following day would be more forgiving, but it seems the Universe isn’t feeling so forgiving.

When Juno wakes, it’s just as Vespa had hypothesized. He doesn’t seem to know who he is. He has no idea where he is no matter how much Nureyev explains, and he doesn’t recognize Peter. At all.

“Juno. Love, it’s _okay_. You’re safe. You’re on the Carte Blanche. You’re in your room,” Nureyev soothes, attempting to sound reassuring, but his voice is tight in his throat.

“I don’t know where the hell that is! Who are you?! What’re you – what the _fuck_ did you to me?” Juno snarls, his limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Nureyev's heart clenches when he realizes Juno must believe he's been poisoned, rather than ill. When he realizes Juno believes he would ever do something like that to him. 

Nureyev wants to help him back into bed, wants to get him off of his feet. He’s liable to fall down this way, to get hurt. If that happens, it will be all Nureyev’s fault. The thought sinks to the bottom of his stomach. He reaches out a hand for Juno to take.

“Juno, it’s _me_. It’s Nureyev. You're sick right now, and your memory isn’t working properly. But everything’s going to be okay. It’s alright.” 

Nureyev hopes so desperately that this will jumpstart something in Juno’s mind. The way he says his name, or perhaps the tone of his voice, just, _something_. He’s bargaining on a miracle, something he’d been previously convinced he’d never be so foolish to do.

Instead, Juno wrenches backward, a terrified, animalistic look in his glazed-over eye. He shouts hoarsely, throwing things around the room. He chucks a book that Nureyev bought him at the wall, a few pages fluttering out upon impact. He tosses clothes that had been hanging over the chair onto the floor. Nureyev is thankful he doesn’t currently seem strong enough to pick up anything of substantial weight, but that can’t take the terror out of the moment. No matter how much he tries, he can’t get Juno to calm down. And god, does he try.

In the end, he calls Vespa in a panic, and she’s forced to sedate Juno. Nureyev watches uselessly as she drives the needle into his flesh, holding him down with all of her might. Juno’s motions go from jerky to lethargic in a matter of seconds, his eyelid fluttering before he lands on the bed with an unceremonious slump. 

Nureyev expects Vespa to chastise him for not doing a better job taking care of him. He anticipates her yelling at him for forcing her to intervene; for being so awful at _everything_.

None of that happens.

Instead, she pulls the blanket over Juno, checks his vitals and the state of his fever, and says,

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Nureyev sits in the chair beside Juno, his eyes wandering around the room, anywhere so long as he doesn’t have to look at her or Juno.

“I didn’t try hard enough.”

Normally, he is the cockiest around Vespa. She doesn’t trust him and despises his presence in the Aurinko crime family. On top of that, they’re both combative people, and more times than not, they butt heads. Not now, though. What has Nureyev got to gloat about when all he’s done is fail?

Vespa sighs tiredly.

“Listen, Ransom… that isn’t how this works. Sometimes, you can’t just snap someone out of it.”

“It was my job to look after him. I was supposed to…” he trails off. What is he supposed to say? Vespa knows what he was supposed to do. She was the one who had instructed him in the first place.

“God, _please_ stop acting like such a sad-sack. I don’t want to get all schmaltzy with you of all people,” says Vespa through gritted teeth. She pauses, taking a deep breath. “Look.” To his surprise, Nureyev finds her tone so convincing, that he does.

“This shit is rough. I live it. _Every_ goddamn day. It’s hard when you don’t know where you are, or you see things that aren’t really there. It’s fucking terrifying. That’s what Steel is right now. He’s scared.” Nureyev makes to interrupt, but she shuts it down quickly. “Don’t. Whatever you’re going to say, don’t bother. Steel’s scared, and so are you. And that’s okay. I’d be a hell of a lot more concerned if you weren’t scared right now.”

“He…” the words catch in his throat, and instantly, Nureyev regrets opening his mouth. Still, he presses on. “He looked at me like he’d never seen me before. As though we were _strangers_.”

“You did the right thing, contacting me. I told you to call me if you needed anything, and you did.”

Nureyev remains silent, but the look in Vespa’s eyes sends a shiver down his spine. If he were more of a fool than he already is, he might’ve mistaken that look for respect.

“We don’t like each other,” she says as if it isn’t an established fact, “And I don’t trust you for shit. But… I trusted that you could look after Steel. And I still do.” 

Nureyev doesn’t know the first reason why.

“Do you think you can handle it? Because if you can’t, you need to tell me. Immediately.”

Nureyev’s tired. He’s scared out of his mind, feeling more like a failure than he has in a while. But he’s also a stubborn bastard and a stubborn bastard that loves Juno more than anything. He _can’t_ leave him, he realizes. Not now.

Additionally, Vespa has her own work to do. He’ll be burdening the crew even further if he gives in. 

“Yes,” Nureyev says, trying to ignore how brittle his voice sounds, “I can do it. I’m… fine.”

Vespa scrutinizes him carefully, and Nureyev wants nothing more than to shrink under her gaze. Instead, he sits up straight, doing his best to appear competent.

“And you’ll get help again if you need it? I don’t need you trying to be a hero right now.”

The idea of having to do that again sounds like pure torture, worse than a throne of spinning blades, but… for Juno, he can try.

“Yes.”

“Good. You should be able to get some rest while he’s out; it’s a potent sedative. It’ll last at least a couple of hours.”

The idea of sleep right now seems utterly impossible, but he doesn’t say as much. Instead, he nods ridged, thanking Vespa for all of her help.

Only once she’s gone does he allow the tears to fall, holding his head in his hands and crying as silently as he can.

=+=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops angst happened. My man Nureyev is strugglingTM, poor thing. I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter and feel free to yell at me for being so angsty. Have a wonderful day/night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, the happy ending.

Nureyev wakes slowly, a feeling of softness surrounding him. He’s lying on his stomach, with his face pressed into… _something_ plush. He’s so comfortable that, for a moment, he simply lies there, relishing in it.

And then the thought strikes him: He’s comfortable. Right now. When Juno is ill. Wait a minute, _where is he_?

He bolts into an upright position, his eyes scanning the room… _his_ room. He’s in his quarters, the familiar sight of a scattering of clothing, the random contents of his endless pockets, and whatever other junk he’s managed to fill his room with greeting him.

What in the world?

Quickly, he racks his brain, but nothing’s coming to mind. He hasn’t a clue how he ended up here, rather than by Juno’s side.

Oh god, – _Juno_. How long has he been asleep?! Far too long, clearly, considering how well-rested he feels. Has his lady been on his own this entire time? What if he’s dealing with another frightening bout of amnesia? What if no one’s checked on him and Juno needs help but the crew doesn’t know it? What if he’s terrified and alone, all alone because Nureyev isn’t with him?

Before he allows his mind to be crowded with any more ‘what-if’s he makes it to his feet, practically running to the door, which opens to revel… Jet, for some reason.

“Ah, Thief,” Jet greets from a chair that’s been set right beside his door, “I see you’ve woken. Did you sleep well?”

“Did I _sleep well_?” Nureyev parrots, sounding a touch hysterical, “How did I end up in my room? And Where is Juno? Is he alright? What are you doing here? What -.”

Nureyev’s babbling ceases when Jet’s two strong hands settle on either of his shoulders, holding him firmly in place. 

“Mr. Siquliak, I must ask you to unhand me.”

“And I asked if you slept well,” Jet says, solid grip on his shoulders not so much as loosening, “I’d appreciate if my question is answered before I get to yours.”

Nureyev stares at him, dumbfounded. Surely, Jet wouldn’t try to… hurt him. Right? They’re co-workers, after all, and he doubts Buddy would appreciate her ‘family’ behaving in such away. Nureyev doesn’t doubt his ability to get out of this situation; he’s certainly been in worse scrapes than this.

Is this a joke? Juno’s told him of Jet’s odd sense of humor, perhaps that’s what this is? God, there isn’t any more time to consider it is there? He’s far too worried about Juno to stall any longer and so he answers the odd question.

“Yes… I slept well,” he says slowly, eyeing Jet’s stoic expression carefully.

“Excellent,” says Jet with no more enthusiasm than usual, releasing him suddenly, “Buddy had instructed me to keep watch over you so that you got a proper amount of rest. You were very tired.”

“I’m sorry – Captain Aurinko did _what_?” Nureyev asks confusion enveloping him completely.

Why is Jet acting so strangely? And why in the world would Buddy make sure he slept, when he was supposed to be taking care of Juno? He’s trying to school his expression, trying to keep the mask of Peter Ransom from slipping, despite the fact that almost seems like a lost cause certainly.

“She told me to carry you to your room, which, I must say, is quite messy,” Jet says, “You got virtually no rest in the last several days. It seems as though you needed it severely.” Nureyev blinks, the thought of Jet carrying him to his bed one he tries not to dwell on. But then he focuses on what he actually said. 

“ _You_ took me to my room? Good lord, how long was I asleep?”

“Fifteen hours.”

“ _Fifteen_ –,” Nureyev sputters, the very thought of sleeping so long in one interval mind-boggling in every right. He pauses, composure seeming farther and farther away. He takes a breath, then another, searching for tranquility. “Where is Juno?”

“In his room, of course,” Jet says, stepping aside, “You can go and visit him now if you’d like.”

Nureyev is practically sprinting down the hall towards Juno's room. And when he catches sight of him, his vision of light, his love, for a moment, he’s sure he must be dreaming.

Juno is still lying in his bed as he had been last Nureyev saw him, but so much has changed. The lady’s dark skin has a flush of life returned to it, the bags under his eye sockets having receded significantly. Oh, and his eye. No longer is it clouded with confusion; the glazed, terrified look replaced with one of awed recognition. Juno _recognizes_ him.

“Nureyev.”

His voice comes out a little raw and tired but sounding so much better than it had. He looks _so_ much healthier.

“Juno,” Nureyev gasps, kneeling at Juno’s bedside. He reaches for Juno’s hand, which the lady quickly takes, their fingers lacing together. This close, Nureyev can see the absence of a sheen of sweat, he can see the wonderful gleam in Juno’s eye that he has missed so desperately.

“I’m here. It’s okay.”

Juno squeezes his hand, and suddenly, his confusion returns. Why is _Juno_ comforting _him_? Shouldn’t – shouldn’t the roles be reversed? Nureyev hasn’t been ill, hasn’t been suffering the way his love has. So why… _oh_.

Nureyev catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, such a tremendous fear staring back at him. He looks _terrified_ and Juno’s worried about him. As though he’s the one who should be worried.

“My love, you’re – you’re _awake_. And you… you…” Trying though he is, he can’t seem to form the words.

“Recognize you?”

Nureyev sighs.

“Yes. How do you – that is to say, how much do you remember? Oh! But more importantly, how are you feeling, love?” Nureyev blabbers, pressing a hand to Juno’s forehead. There’s not a trace of fever.

“I’ve been better,” Juno says with a light laugh, “But I’m okay. I remember bits and pieces but… not most of it. Vespa filled me in, mostly.”

Ah. So Vespa must’ve told him everything that happened. It isn’t as though Nureyev wasn’t going to share such things with Juno, it’s just… hard, now that he actually has to face it.

“Juno, darling, I am _so_ sorry. I never meant to leave your side. It was just –.”

“Whoa, hey,” Juno interrupts, “You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

“Of course, I do! I –.”

“You, what? Got tired? Because I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, it’s this thing that humans tend to do from time to time.” 

Nureyev shuts his eyes. He brings Juno’s knuckle to his lips, kissing the skin reverently, despite the ex-detective’s sarcasm. 

“I shouldn’t have left you.”

“Nureyev _,_ you hadn’t slept a healthy amount in _days_. Of course, you needed rest.”

“I promised I would look after you,” Nureyev counters, his throat tight and voice brittle. How is it that Juno always manages to do this to him, reducing him to the rawest, most vulnerable parts of himself?

“Nureyev, honey, you _did_ look after me. You did such a good job taking care of me,” Juno says, squeezing his hand again.

“But I left you –.”

“You fell asleep. And then Jet, Rita, and Vespa – _yes_ , Vespa, took turns looking in on me. How much sleep do you think you got those two days I was completely incapacitated, and you were the only one taking care of me?”

“A tolerable amount, I’d say,” Nureyev lies, poorly.

“Well, I wouldn’t. You barely have a functional sleep schedule as it is. I’m glad you got a decent amount of rest for once.”

“I’d hardly call fifteen hours ‘decent.’ Excessive is a far better descriptor.” Juno sighs, gesturing towards the bed.

“C’mere. Come up here.”

Nureyev falters, mind still so overwhelmed with worry.

“Are you sure? Because, if you need more rest, I can leave you alone.”

“What I _need_ is for you to come here. Right now,” Juno says, sounding rather impatient. Nureyev exhales slowly, nodding.

“Of course, love.”

He crawls into bed beside him, at first giving the lady some room, but quickly finding himself wrapped in a firm embrace. He returns the gesture, draping an arm around Juno who leans his head on Nureyev’s shoulder. Instantly, Nureyev can feel some of his concerns receding with the comforting warmth of Juno against him.

They lie there in the silence for a long while, sharing brief, blessed kisses. Juno is still too weak to react to Nureyev’s embraces with as much passion as he wishes he could, but it’s hardly either of their top concerns at the moment.

There’s still a small, ignorant part of Nureyev who wonders if this is real. It’s so surreal, lying here with Juno, almost as if the last few days hadn’t happened at all.

But the silence can’t last forever.

"Nureyev?”

“Hm?”

“Can we… can we talk about what happened?”

“What do you mean?” Nureyev asks, like an imbecile. It’s not hard to guess what Juno’s referring to, but that doesn’t make things any easier.

“You know what I mean,” Juno says, his tone indicating his disinterest in Nureyev dogging the question, much as he wants to. “I scared you.”

“Juno. Dearest, you could never scare me,” Nureyev replies automatically. It feels like the right thing to say, but when Juno turns so that their gazes meet, he’s quickly proven wrong.

“But I did. I scared you. Really badly, from the sounds of things. It happened, Nureyev, and we need to talk about it.”

This is one of the very few times Nureyev curses the growth his love has undergone. Juno is such a different lady from when he abandoned him on Mars. The Juno of the past and this one feel like separate entities entirely, and for the most part, Nureyev is so proud of him for how much he’s grown. But right now the insistence that they need to talk through their issues is incredibly daunting.

Logic reminds Nureyev that, of course, Juno’s right. They _do_ need to talk through what Juno’s illness caused, daunting or not. 

“Vespa told me about when she needed to sedate me.”

Nureyev’s eyes land on the floor. Juno’s hand settles on the small of Nureyev’s back because the lady is an absolute angel who knows exactly what he needs. 

“Did she now?”

“Yeah, she did. She also told me that I was throwing things around the room and that I didn’t recognize you. At all.”

“You weren’t in your right mind,” Nureyev says, voice clipping despite his best intentions, “I don’t hold any of that against you. Vespa’s help was very… appreciated, in that moment.”

“Nureyev… it’s _okay_ that you were afraid. I mean, shit, if the roles were reversed, I would’ve been terrified. I would’ve been so fucking worried about you.”

“I – I was,” Nureyev gasps, giving way to the emotional display he’d been desperately avoiding.

"And that's alright, hon. That's okay." 

“I was _so_ worried, Juno. It was l-like you were looking right through me. You were so confused, a-and, and I didn’t know what to do except c-call Vespa. I didn’t want to. I wanted to help you my-myself.”

Nureyev tries his hardest to ignore the unpleasant warmth of tears welling in his eyes.

“I know you didn’t want to, but you did it and I’m so proud of you.”

“W-why?”

Juno’s hands cradle Nureyev’s face, thumb brushing against his jaw, and Nureyev realizes that he’s shivering.

“Because you did what you had to, to take care of me. Even though you were afraid, you did it. How could I not be proud of you for that? You did so good, baby. So good.”

Any chance of Nureyev holding himself together breaks away as the tears begin to fall. Juno wraps his arms around him, and the thief fails to restrain himself from clinging to his love as though he is a life raft. 

Juno holds tight to him as he trembles and sobs, whispering reassuring words and dropping kisses into his hair. Nureyev had been so sure he had everything under control, that it had been properly ‘filed away.’ But it seems that isn’t the case at all. Nureyev feels foolish and stupid, just as he always does when bearing his emotions so deeply, but… being held by Juno helps. It always does.

When Nureyev’s sobs have died down to a murmur, Juno lies them both down again, holding him just as tightly as he had been.

“Juno…”

“If you’re about to apologize for crying, I’m gonna stop you right there.” His lady love knows him far too well.

“You’re the one who’s sick. You shouldn’t need to take care of me.”

“We take care of _each other_ , Nureyev. Always. I’m always going to look after you and I know you’re going to look after me. So, yes, I do need to take care of you.”

Nureyev sighs, relief settling over him, and kisses Juno. 

“I love you, Juno. So much.” ‘Thank you,’ and ‘You always know what to say,’ and ‘You’re perfect,’ goes unsaid, but Nureyev is certain Juno knows what he means. 

“I know. I love you too.”

Despite a prior fifteen hours of sleep, Nureyev finds himself drifting off once again in Juno’s arms, his dear detective falling asleep too.

When they wake, there will be thanks given to the rest of the crew for taking care of Juno, thanks to Buddy for making sure that Nureyev finally got some rest, and thanks to Vespa for all that she does as the crew’s doctor. In short, their family are incredible, and will be reminded of that.

For now, though, the ex-detective and the thief sleep well, fear and illness creeping into nonexistence.

=+=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this little story! I've got such a soft spot for these characters. I hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you in my next fic. Have a wonderful day/night!


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